A Dark Angel
by Kymera
Summary: The history of a Dark Elf Shadowknight I've played for 2 years
1. Default Chapter

~Silence. The street was silent that night, half hidden in shadows as the moonlight was filtered through clouds high above. The guard on duty that night paced back and forth at his post, feeling ill at ease. Something was amiss, but he could not tell what. Off in the distance he could hear the cry of a babe, and remembered that this was the night his commander, Lord D`Sade was expecting the birth of his first child. He began the short journey to the household, intent on congratulating the new father on his proud accomplishment when he heard the scream. One of anger, and rage. In a moment, he realizes it's coming from the direction he was heading and takes off at a run.~  
  
"WITCH, YOU BORE A DAUGHTER!!! THIS IS NOT MY CHILD! YOU WHORE!!!"  
  
"No, I swear..."  
  
"YOU SHALL PAY FOR THIS!!!"  
  
~Again he hears a cry, but this time it's one of pain. He runs faster, trying to beat time itself, but he's too late. When he arrives at the home, he finds the ill feeling he had before has grown. The door of the house has been ripped off it's very hinges, tore in a fit of rage. The living quarters are a shambles, furniture broken in pieces. And Lord D`Sade is no where to be found.~  
  
~Cautiously the guard works his way through the house, looking for anything to ease his growing sense of dread. As he comes upon the birthing room, he realizes he will not find it. There, in a broken heap on the floor, lies the Lady of the house, battered and lifeless. Gingerly, he lifts he prone form from the floor and carries her to the living room. As he lays her body on the splintered table, he notices that her womb is still hard. Gently probing her stomach, he can barely make out the form of another babe.~  
  
"Is there a chance...?"  
  
~Swiftly he draws his dagger, and saying a silent prayer over the Lady's form, he opens her womb, and pulls out the child. Carefully he cleans the small form off, and lifts it to his ear, listening...hoping...~  
  
~An eternity passes as he waits, and just as he's about to give up hope, he hears it. Faint, and haggard, but a small breath. Quickly he wraps the child in a blanket and sets about looking for the other, to lay it with it's mother.~  
  
~As he moves back to the birthing room, he pauses, and listens again. A small weak cry can barely be heard. His sharp ears almost missed it for the sound of the fire still lit in the hearth. He moves towards the sound, which comes from the room that should have been filled with joy, and, there, in a dark corner, under a pile of broken chairs, is the child that caused this.~  
  
~Gently he lifts the small girl child out of the rubble and wraps her in a blanket. Moving back to the table, the guard pauses and looks at the two. One female, one male. He lifts up the male child, and looks at him.~  
  
"Oh, had it only been you first, this would never have happened..." he sighs.  
  
~Realizing that time is growing short, he wonders what to do with the two small ones. He can't keep them, but he can't leave them for dead either. His ears pick up the sound of footsteps running towards the house. He has to decide quickly. Should Lord D`Sade find him there, or find the children, he will surely kill them all. Wrapping the two small bundles under his cloak, the guard slips out the back just as the Lord of the house comes back, carrying a torch that he throws on the figure of his late wife, snarling in rage, no longer sane...~  
  
~The guard weaves through the shadows, hiding himself and the two small bundles he carries close to his chest. He knows he has to hide them, and soon. Someplace warm, but where. He thinks for a moment, than remembers a woman that will help, and quickly moves in that direction, still keeping to the shadows.~  
  
~He approaches the small house from the back, and sees that only one candle is lit inside. Softly the guard raps on the door and waits. After a few moments, it opens slowly, the hinges, though rusty and worn, emite not a sound. A weathered hand pulls it in, and another, holding a candle up emerges. An old, yet oddly alert voice speaks from behind the door.~  
  
"Who knocks at such an hour?"  
  
"It is I, Klaryssa. Please let me in. It's urgent."  
  
~The door swings open and the guard enters the house. The interior is dimly lit, but he has no problem seeing. His Teir'Dal eyes scanned the room, taking in the herbs hanging from the rafters, the jars with scrawled writings on the shelves, the tables covered with books, and other arcane items, looking for a place to lay his burden. Seeing a small table, almost empty, he moves to it, and after Klaryssa clears it, he opens his cloak and removes the two squirming bundles.~  
  
"What in Innoruuk's name have you brought me, Fachon?" the witch says as she moves closer and raises her candle. As the guard opens the bundles, she gasps and steps back.  
  
"They are the children of Lord D`Sade, who is, as we speak, torching his very house and slain wife in a mad rage. The female was born first, and he could not see past that in his rage. He killed her, and almost the boy child. I heard, and while he ran to fetch the torch, I took them, and brought them here."  
  
"You have gone against the very Fates, Fachon! They are doomed! And you want me to take them?"  
  
"No, wise one. Merely hide them awhile, til I figure out what to do with them. I can't let them die, but I can't take them to the Warrior House. Lord D`Sade would figure them out, and slay them."  
  
~The woman thought a moment. She begins to move around the room gathering various herbs, and things from various bottles on the shelves. She takes two unmarked bottles down as well, and, returning to the table, begins to mix the herbs in a mortar, grinding them into a fine powder which she divides in half, putting some in one bottle, and some in the second, corking both.~  
  
"Take the boy to the healers. No one will suspect that a child of Lord D`Sade would become a healer. They will care for him."  
  
"And the girl child?"  
  
"The last plast anyone will look for a female. Take her to the Lodge of the Dead. If she survived her father's attempt at killing her, she is strong enough to survive that. And, she will live."  
  
~The guard nods slightly, and begins to gather up the two squaling infants. The woman places her hand on his arm, holding him back a moment. She pulls yet another jar down, uncorks it, and, dipping her finger in the jar's contents, makes two marks on each child's forehead, than straightens back up.~  
  
"That will aid in hiding them from their father until either he is caught, or he forgets. Take these two jars, and give them, one each, to the person that you give the child to. Tell them that once a week, they are to add a pinch of this, and no more, to whatever the child eats. It might ease the Fates' anger, but it might not. They do not have an easy road ahead of them, Fachon, but if our Father wishes them at His side, He will have it. Now go, swiftly. Dawn is approaching, and you must not been seen."  
  
"Thank you, Klaryssa."  
  
~With that, the guard picks up both the children, and, in the darkest hour before dawn, leaves the witches hut and begins making his way to the healers of Neriak.~ 


	2. Chapter 2

~On silent tread Fachon makes his way to the Temple of Innoruuk, where he lightly raps on the door to the priests sanctuaries. It is opened by a young acolyte, who silently ushers him into the waiting area. After a moment, an elderly priest enters, and greets him.~  
  
"Innoruuk guide you, brother. What brings you to our temple so early in the morn?"  
  
"I have a child that I was told to give into your care, Father."  
  
~The guard gently hands the male child to the priest, along with the jar.~  
  
"Klaryssa said to give this to you with the instructions to give him a dose once a week. She says that he is cursed by the Fates, and it will ease Their anger."  
  
"Ah, I knew I felt her hand in this."  
  
~The priest takes both the child and the jar from Fachon, and than stops the guard as he is about to leave.~  
  
"Here, what is that other bundle you have, Fachon?"  
  
"The female child that was born first. The reason you now hold the second born, son of Lord D`Sade, who has now gone mad."  
  
~At the name, the priest gasps softly, and takes a step back.~  
  
"Get her from my sight! Take her and leave this place. I shall take the male, and he shall never know his past. May the Fates have Their anger appeased with her."  
  
~At that, the elderly priest shoves Fachon out the door, and closes it behind him with a resounding thud. Fachon can hear the bolt being slid back into place as he turns and heads towards the very bowels of Neriak, where only those that have to go venture to. To the Lodge of the Dead, where the darkest of the Teir'Dal training takes place.~  
  
~Fachon quickly makes his way through the back streets of the city, working his way to the very heart of it. Far from the prying eyes of any but the most hardy, or foolish, sits the Lodge of the Dead. The very name makes most shudder, and Fachon is not immune to these fears and misgivings. He doesn't know what goes on inside that dark foreboding building, nor does he care to know. He just knows he's running out of time.~  
~The ghouls at the gate turn slightly towards him, hissing a sound that chills his very soul as he passes by. They don't challenge him, merely let him pass, which he thinks is odd. He had heard rumors that these ghouls did not let any but those from the Lodge pass unharmed. Than he remembers the child in his cloak. Maybe it's her they are allowing to pass. He shudders at the thought of the trip back without the child.~  
  
~As he comes upon the Lodge's entrance, a dark shadow falls over him, and he takes a step back as a voice, cold with death addresses him.~  
  
"Well, well, well. Fachon. I had never expected to see you at our door. And at the perfect time of day."  
  
~Fachon looked up into the face of Lord Tolax, once the greatest warrior to walk the street of Neriak, before he was seduced by the powers of the dead. Now he was the Master of the Dark Knight training, and the very man he needed to see.~  
  
"I…" Fachon shudder as he say there was no life in the knights eyes, but stealed himself to continue, "I have a child for you. A girl child."  
  
~Lord Tolax sneers~ "What? A girl? You bring me a girl?"  
  
"Aye. Klaryssa told me to bring her here."  
  
"Klaryssa, you say? Very well. Give her to me."  
  
~Fachon slowly removes the small child from his cloak and hands her to Tolax. As he does, he feels a momentary pang of guilt. Just what is he surrendering this poor child to, he knew not. Than, as Tolax swept her away Fachon backed away.~  
  
"She will learn well the ways of our Father. I shall see to that. Now go. The ghouls will not trouble you as you pass."  
  
~And with that, Lord Tolax spun around, and was gone. Vanished, as if into thin air. Fachon shudders, as he realizes that Tolax had read his very thoughts before he thought them, and swiftly head away from the Lodge. As he passes the ghouls he can feel them staring at him, as if he were some tastey morsel, and he quickens his step. Only when he has past them, and is out of their sight does he realize he has forgotten to give Tolax the jar that the witch made.~  
  
~Nezzka Tolax moves swiftly and silently through the lodge, heading towards his chambers, holding the infant child as though it were a treasure not easily gotten. When he reaches his rooms, he dismisses the servants quickly with a wave of his hand. Reluctantly letting go of the child with one hand, he sweeps clean the top of the table that sits in front of the fire place. Reverantly he places the small girl on the table, unwrapping her. He than moves away, searching the room for something, seemingly unmindful of the pitiful cries the child makes. Finally, at a small wooden chest, he finds what he has been looking for, and returns to the table, gazing down at the child upon it.~  
  
"So you are the one… You're coming was foretold to me, my small daughter of Innoruuk. You will grow to be the greatest of His guardians, spreading His hate through the lands…"  
  
~A cruel smile, cold and unfeeling as the grave spreads over Nezzka's face as he turns towards the fire, and thrust the metal rod into it. He moves to another cabinet and pulls out a bottle filled with an amber liquid that glistens in the fire light. Moving back to the table, he pours some over the child's right leg, than pours a small amount into her mouth, forcing her to swallow it, than chuckles slightly as she coughs and sputters.~  
  
"'Tis the best brandy in all Norrath you are wincing at, little one. Now let's begin, for you have much to learn, and little time in which to learn it. You did take your time getting here…"  
  
~Drawing the metal from the fire, the tip of it glowing white hot, Nezzka takes hold of the child's right leg firmly and presses the glowing tip into the flesh on her inner thigh. The child shrieks and squalls as the pain courses through her small body. A moment passes, and Nezzka removes the iron, an angry red welt left in it's wake, as the babe cries all the harder. Nezzka pours a bit more brandy over the fresh burn, inspecting it to make sure he did not damage the marking, as the child slowly stops crying, the effects of the brandy finally taking effect. Soon, the babe is asleep, fitfully, wincing slightly with every movement of her right leg, the shadows from the fire dancing over her small figure.~  
  
"There, little one. The first lesson of your training. And, the most important. Pain. You shall inflict it, and you shall receive it. And you shall do this all in the name of our Father, Lord Innoruuk Himself. With it will come hate. You are destined to be His greatest guardian, and to carry out His deeds, little one. And you now bear the mark of our Father. Innoruuk is now burned into your flesh, as His hate will burn in your soul. You will be known as Shadowfyre. May you serve Him well, little one…"  
  
~Nezzka turns and swiftly departs, leaving the newly named, and freshly branded child on the table.~  
  
~In her sleep, the small child whimpers softly.~ 


	3. Chapter 3

~As the infant grew into a young girl, her training was hard. She learned to hold a sword before she could even walk. When she could walk, she could use any weapon that was placed before her. Day and night her training took place. And when she failed at even the smallest task, she was beaten. Tied to a post in the courtyard of the Lodge, and whipped until she passed out from the pain. Eventually she became used to it, and learned how to block it out, by detaching herself from her body. Very few knew she could do this, and those that did were usually found after they had some accident that took their lives.~  
  
~Nezzka watched all this with a detached air, yet was proud of his pupil. He knew she would become a knight to be reckoned with, and eventually would be able to best even him. Yet there was more he knew she had to learn, and that was what he was waiting for. With unabashed glee.~  
  
~He didn't have to wait log. As time passed, Shadowfyre eventually grew into a young woman, and came of age. This was when the real training would take place. She would learn the weaknesses of men, and use them against them to gain their confidence so it would be easier to slip a dagger in their back~  
  
~One day, Nezzka approached her while she was dueling with one of the other apprentice knights. He came up behind her, sliding his foot in the way, yet instead of tripping her as he had planned, she anticipated his action, deftly turned away, and drew her dagger on him.~  
  
"Why have you disturbed my training, Lord Tolax? Am I not doing better than you had hoped?"  
  
~The crack of his hand across her face echoed through the courtyard. A small trickle of blood escaped from the corner of her mouth.~  
  
"You have grown arrogant, Shadow. Too arrogant, in fact. Now you must learn yet another lesson."  
  
~Nezzka swiftly grabbed her arm and twisted it behind her in an unnatural angle, bringing a wince of pain to Shadow's face. Shoving her in front of him, he motions for the other apprentice to follow, with a jerk of his head. Soon it become apparent where they are going. The training hall, where all the other apprentices were.~  
  
~Nezzka kicks open the door of the training hall, turning all eye there to him, the young apprentice, and the young woman he is shoving before him. Cruelly he forces her across the room to the overseers chair, and forces her face down into it.~  
  
"Bring me some ropes!" ~he shouts, his voice echoing through the hall for a moment, before a dozen shocked trainees scurry to do his bidding. The first one back is rewarded with a snarl from Tolax, as he instructs him to tie the young knight to the chair, making sure she cannot escape. Without hesitation, the apprentice does as instructed, than quickly backs away.  
  
"What are you doing, Nezzka?" ~Shadowfyre nearly snarls over her shoulder. "You think this will be any different than the beating you gave me last eve?"  
  
"You shall soon learn, my dear, what is in store for you and your arrogance."  
  
~He than pulls her dagger from it's sheath, and begins cutting the bindings of her armor, letting each snap in two. First the bindings on her breastplate, than the bindings on her greaves. Quickly Nezzka shoves the pieces aside, exposing her dark flesh for all to see. As the last piece falls, he grabs a handful of her hair, and jerks her head back. Leaning in close to her ear, he whispers low enough so that only she can hear.~  
  
"This is your next lesson, Shadow. You have what men want the most. What I want the most. You will learn to use it against them. But unlike the others, I get the sweet, sweet pleasure of teaching it to you."  
  
"For the remainder of the day, Shadowfyre will be here, as you see her now, to ease any frustrations you may have. Once the sun hits the mountains to the west, anyone that than touches her shall have his hand cut off."  
  
"WHAT!" ~Shadowfyre shrieks in rage, fighting against the bonds anew.~  
  
~Nezzka once again leans in close to her ear and whispers.~  
"Maybe this will squelch the arrogance in you."  
  
~With the last bit of resistance she has, Shadowfyre turns her head and spits in Nezzka's face.~  
  
"Nothing will do that, you fool. For you were the one that taught me that lesson."  
  
~The force of the slap Nezzka gives Shadow ricochets her head off the arm of the chair, and almost knocks her unconscious, but not quite. That would have been too kind. Nezzka than stands back and watches as each of the trainees approaches the bound knight, and relieves what baser urges they have. Shadow never once takes her eyes from Nezzka, and the fires of hatred and rage only grow within them.~  
  
  
~The days of training turned into weeks. The weeks into months, than years. Shadow's skills kept improving and she never ceased to amaze Nezzka with her talents with a sword or mace. On many occasions he would stop and watch his pupil with a mix of admiration and revoltion, for she had the skills that he knew he would never possess.~  
  
~One day, during such a moment of pause, Nezzka approached her, and drew her aside roughly.~  
  
"Shadowfyre, I believe you are ready for the final test, and lesson, in your training" he fairly hissed.  
  
~Her eyes blazed remembering the last lesson in the great hall.~  
  
"What is it this time, you lecher?" she snarled. "Another lesson in humiliation, but this time using the ghouls?"  
  
~He chuckled at her, than squeezed her arm harshly, imprinting his fingers into her skin.~  
  
"No. This one is much more tantalizing than the last. Come with me."  
  
~With that, he wrenches her arm behind her, and roughly shoves her ahead of him. Leaning in close he whispers in her ear, his lips mere inches from her ear~  
  
"You will thank me for this, I assure you, my dear… This moment has been a long time in coming."  
  
~Shadow jerks her head away from his mouth, than slams it back, busting Nezzka's lip. He snarls at the sharp pain, than snakes his tongue out to catch the trickle of blood before it trails away.~  
  
"You will pay for that one day, bitch. Too bad it can't be today. More important things await."  
  
~Only than does Shadow realize he has been leading her down into the depths of the Lodge. The walls have a glow to them, created from the centuries of blood and sweat that have been beaten into their very pores. The light, almost none existent in this place, ebbs and flows as though it were a living thing. They move through the shadows together, Nezzka guiding her all the way, until they come to the very last chamber, in the very depths of hell itself.~  
  
~Nezzka takes out a keyring that contains only one key, and hands it to Shadow.~  
  
"Inside you will find that which started you on this path, Shadowfyre. Think hard on what to do once you discover what it is."  
  
~Shadow gingerly takes the key, not fully trusting her teacher, and turns towards the door. Sliding it in the lock, she listens as the tumblers fall and the door slowly begins to swing open. She has to duck her head to step inside, and even than cannot stand up straight, the cell is so small. She pauses a moment and allows her eyes to adjust to the dark and shadows, and only than does she notice, in the corner, a crouched figure.~  
  
~Slowly she approaches the figure, and when she nears it, she recognizes the shackles that bind it to the wall as those of Nezzka's making. Manys the time she was forced to wear them in the great hall. The figure raises it's head, and Shadow can see that it is a man, thin and frail, and obviously quite mad. His eyes stare at her, burning into her mind, and she feels as though she should know him, yet she does not.~  
  
~Nezzka moves in behind her, pushing her closer to the wretch of a man, and, brushing a lock of snow white hair from her shoulder, he leans over and speaks quietly, yet harshly.~  
  
"Shadowfyre, it is with great delight that I can now introduce you to your father. Lord D`Sade, meet the very creature you tried to destroy, but failed."  
  
~The prisoner's head snaps up, and the fire burning in his eyes flares again. He begins to fight against the chains and bonds, reaching for Shadow, his hands clawing at her in his attempt to kill her, even now. Strange gutteral sounds come from his mouth and throat, but nothing intelligible.~  
  
~Shadowfyre stands there, staring at this man that would have her dead.~  
  
"You." ~her eyes begin to narrow, and her hand move reflexively to the hilt of her dagger nestled on her thigh. The word slips from her lips, flowing on a river of hate and disgust.~ "You. Such a weak and vile creature as you sired me? And then thought to kill me? ~her fingers begin working the handle, and the rage and hatred burn in her eyes, searing her father's very soul.~ "You failed at that once, but you shall not again. For you shall not have the chance to, father."  
  
~In a flash she unsheathes her dagger and sword, drawing the first over the Lord D`Sade's throat, and burying the other swiftly into his gut. Shadow looks at the man, now gurgling in his own blood and begins to laugh. Nezzka moves back a pace, a sickening smile begins to spread across his face as he listens to Shadowfyre laugh, knowing that her training is at an end. She is now ready to become Innoruuk's own mercenary.~ 


	4. Chapter 4

~Shadowfyre moves through the forest quietly. No light filters through the dense canopy that the trees form, so she casts not even a shadow at her passing. Just under eight seasons have passed since that day in the dungeon, yet it still plays in her mind, keeping her hatred alive. As does her hatred for Nezzka. Her desire to spill his blood and watch the light of life slip from his eyes grows with each passing day, but she knows she must wait. Right now, she has a mission.~  
  
~Her eyes see the glow of the campfire even before her other senses tell her that the camp is near. With silent tread she slips closer, and counts the men sitting around the fire. Two men and a woman, though she's snorts softly at the thought of them being called men. These creatures, halflings by rightful name, are barely human, and deserve no better than servitude, if not death by her hand.~  
  
~As one of the men stands a stretches, Shadow slips behind a nearby tree, and unsheaths her dagger, smelling the mead that they've obviously been partaking of. She knows that soon they'll need to relieve themselves, so she drops down to the balls of her feet, and waits. She doesn't have to wait long.~  
  
~The woman is the first to head off to find a spot. She ducks behind some bushes as Shadow follows. Without a sound she covers the woman's mouth and slides her dagger across the peck's throat. She smiles as the woman struggles for a moment, than slumps against her in death. With a snarl, Shadow drops the corpse to the ground, quick to be rid of the foul thing, and heads back to the camp.~  
  
~The two men are now quietly talking, absorbed with themselves and the mead they still have left. Shadow again drops down to a crouch and waits. Quite a while passes before one of the men mentions the female's absence, and they both rise to look for her. Shadow growls quietly as she watches them pick up their weapons and deftly move in the direction of the corpse. She knows she'll have to fight both of them at once, but still is unconcerned. She'll rid the forest of these foul creatures that do not belong. Quietly she follows.~  
  
~As the men round the bushes and find the corpse Shadow moves swiftly and slashes a killing blow at the one closest. She snarls in fury as the other man spins and blocks her blow, her sword only glancing off the intended victim. Both men turn to face her, their faces set with an emotion she knows well. Hatred.~  
  
~The two men stand together, side by side, watching Shadow as she moves quietly back and forth. Shadow sizes the two men up, and decides how best to attack. She moves slowly to the right, sword ready as the peck to the left rushes forward. With a speed that draws a gasp from both the men, Shadow shifts to the left and counters the attack. The second peck moves in and glances a blow off sword as well. Shadow steps back, smiling.~  
  
~The three circle each other slowly, each trying to establish the best route to victory, each taking the measure of the others movements. As if with silent words, the two men charge at Shadow together. Shadow dodges and parries the attacks, maintaining her footing when they try to throw her off balance. The three are locked in combat, and Shadow feels the occasional bite of the pecks' blades. This only fuels her hatred and desire to rid the forest of them.~  
  
~Shadow can sense more than see the sun set, and begins to feel the first pangs of hunger. As she swings her blade deftly, she thinks on when the last time she ate was. A couple days ago or more if she remembers correctly. As her hunger grows, she decides she's played with her prey enough, and, stepping around the two, she separates them and, dropping down low, unsheathes her dagger, driving it into first ones heart, than slides her sword through the belly of the other.~  
  
~She draws both blades out, being careful to wipe all traces of the blood from the blades, lest they rust and tarnish, and begins head back towards the fire when she sense the other one nearby. She stops and quietly turns in the direction she feels the eyes coming from and stares into the darkness, her hand resting on the pommel of her sword.~  
  
"Show yourself" she calls to the figure hiding in the shadows. "Show yourself, or I shall come slay you as well."  
  
~The figure moves slowly into the fire's light, and Shadow notes quickly that it is another Teir'Dal, male, about her age it seems. He moves with a deftness that seems to come from his size, which is as slight as her own. In his hand, he carries a book, and she can see no sword hanging from his belt.~  
  
"Who are you?"  
  
"My name is Akronn" he says, as he moves closer to the fire His voice was soft, yet rich beyond his years.  
  
"What do you want?"  
  
"I was traveling back to the city when I heard the sounds of fighting. I came closer to see if my services were needed, my dark sister. I am a cleric of our Father."  
  
~Shadow chuckles softly and waves her hand towards the bodies.~  
  
"As you can see, my dark brother, they have no need of them, and I will mend as well, for they are only flesh wounds."  
  
"Still, I shall do what little I can to aid your healing, sister. 'Tis what I was trained to do."  
  
~The cleric stepped closer to Shadow and than she notices the features of his face. His eyes, the same shade as her own, his cheeks cut at the same angle, his nose having the same tilt up at the end, and his mouth with the same off balance as her own. For a moment she studies him closer, narrowing her eyes suspiciously.~  
  
"What did you say your name one, precious?"  
  
"Akronn."  
  
"No surname?"  
  
"Nay, I was an orphan, raised in the house of the clerics, where I learned and trained. I know not who my father was."  
  
~As he speaks, the cleric rummages through his bags and pulls out some bandages. As he begins to wrap them around the worst of the wounds, he chants under his breath. The wounds blaze hotly for a brief instant, than stop. As he moves on to the next, his hand brushes over Shadow's and both dark elves feel as though they've been struck by lightining. A gasp comes from the cleric's lips as he jerks his head up and looks into Shadow's face. Shadow meerly studies Akronn's eyes.~  
  
"Do I know you?" ~he finally says.  
  
"I doubt it. I was born of death and raised in hate. Though I know who my father was, I know him to be as dead as the pecks rotting behind me. Now if you'll excuse me, my brother."  
  
~With that, Shadow rises, gathers what little she has, and moves away from the cleric, heading for the one man that can answer some newfound questions. Nezzka. And if he doesn't answer, she'll beat them from his lips.~ 


	5. Chapter 5

Nezzka looks up from his evening meal as the door bangs open, rattling on the hinges that strain to almost breaking as Shadow strides into the room. A strange gleam fills his eyes when he notices the fresh bandages on her arms and legs. Though he smiles, there is no warmth there, and as Shadow slips in to a chair, the clatter of her sword brings a slight sneer to his lips.  
  
"You know better than to bring you weapons into my chamber while I dine. How sad that your time away has taken some of the lessons I taught you. Perhaps I shall have to teach you again."  
  
"Never again will you teach me anything. Except this."  
  
Shadow began to relate her encounter with the dark healer, and the strange feeling that had coursed through her at his touch. At first, Nezzka meerly sat and listened, expecting a totally different ending than the one that he got.  
  
"He's my brother, isn't he?" Shadow asked.  
  
Nezzka laughed. It rang cold and harsh in her ears. "You pathetic, simpering wench! You have no family. You murdered your mother as you were born, and you slit your own father's throat. And now you ask if this.this healer is your brother?"  
  
The laughter came again, and brought with it her anger and hatred for him. In a flash her sword was at his throat, pressed hard enough against it that a small trickle slipped down his neck.  
  
"My father murdered my mother, you bastard." She hissed through clenched teeth. "So I repaid him in kind. Now answer my question before I afford you the same taste of my blade!"  
  
Something in her eyes made him stop laughing. He knew she hated him, but this, this was foreign to him. He did not know what it was. And so he answered, his voice just barely above a whisper, though she had no trouble hearing his words.  
  
"All I know is the night Fachon brought you here there were rumors of another. A male child. What happened to him, I didn't care to find out. Fachon would be the one to ask, Shadow."  
  
Shadowfyre drew her blade back, and looked at him. Her hatred never retreating. Yet he had given her what she asked. Easily. Perhaps too easily, her mind told her. He was up to something. Otherwise, why would he tell her that so simply? She didn't like it.  
  
Sheathing her sword, she moved to back out of the room with as much silence as she came in with noise. Nezzka, never taking his eyes from hers quietly slipped his hand down the side of his chair and to the dagger hidden underneath. Just as quietly he slipped it out, and threw it before even a breath had passed. With a shriek of pain, Shadow fell back against the doorframe, the dagger protruding from her shoulder. She snarled at him as she yanked it out and threw it back, but he easily knocked it away.  
  
"That is for disturbing my dinner, you whore."  
  
Shadow's eyes narrowed as she looked at him. When she spoke, her voice was as cold as the grave.  
  
"Next time, I kill you."  
  
She turned her back on him and walked out the door. 


	6. Chapter 6

Fachon sat quietly, reflecting on things long past. He had never been able to forget that night so many years ago. He had also never been able to forgive himself from depositing the small child into the hands of the likes of Nezzka Tolax. He was sure she had not survived long.  
  
The boy, however, had done well. The clerics had raised him and taught him how to heal with a word, a thought, a whisper. Many times he had seen him in the city, though not once had he approached him. He felt his secret better left unsaid.  
  
A sharp knock brought Fachon's head up and out of his revelry. As he moved towards the door, the knock came again, impatient this time. He didn't quicken his pace, though he did call out to his visitor that he'd be there shortly. The door opened to reveal a woman, suited in armor with a sword at her hip, dagger strapped to her thigh, and such a contrast between the white of her hair and the black of her eyes that he gasped softly. And in that instant he knew what had become of the girl child.  
  
"You." Whatever else he had been planning on saying got stuck in his throat. Not only had she survived, she had thrived. He could not believe that such a striking figure had come from such a foul place. He paused a moment to absorb what he was seeing.  
  
Hair the color of untarnished snow flowed around a perfectly formed face. The light from the candles and street torches playing off it, making it look as though it breathed a life all it's own. It cascaded down her back and over her shoulders to just past the curve of her breastplate to cover it's namesake. He found himself fighting off the urge to reach out and slip his fingers through the hair, to see if it felt as soft as it looked.  
  
The face it framed did nothing to detract from the hair. If anything, the hair was the perfect frame and only drew the eyes in. Cheekbones, delicate yet well defined sat high, but not too high. A slight nose ended with just a slight upturn, giving it a delightful air of just the right amount of arrogance sat above the most well formed and well defined lips he had ever seen. Unconsciously, his tongue slipped from between his lips and licked them, imagining what it would be like to taste such perfection.  
  
But what captured his attention were her eyes. Two dark pools that spoke of pleasures beyond his wildest imagination. Pleasure, and pain. Eyes so dark, he could barely tell where the iris stopped and the pupil began. Framed by long thick lashes that he knew would feel as a gentle caress were he ever allowed to feel them. And as he stared into those eyes, she spoke.  
  
"You are Fachon, are you not?"  
  
"Huh? Oh, um, yea." his brain taking a moment to realize what had been asked. "Yes, I am. And you are the only daughter of Lord D`."  
  
"Don't. say that name!" she interrupted him, fairly spitting the words out, as though the taste of them were vile on her tongue. "If you value your hide, you will never say that name in my presence. You have been warned."  
  
He nodded, unable to believe the venom with which she spoke.  
  
"How may I help you. I seem at a disadvantage, my dear. You know my name, yet I don't know of yours." he spoke quietly, motioning for her to enter. She stepped inside just enough for him to clsoe the door, but moved no further.  
  
"Shadowfyre. I am called Shadowfyre. And you can answer me this. I have been told that there was rumor of a male child as well as myself. I was told that you would know the truth of it. Is this so? Was there a male child?"  
  
Fachon took only an instant to decide that he had best tell the truth to this woman. He could tell by the way she stood, ready to draw in a hair's breath that she would think nothing of sliding her blade into him if he lied. And something in him knew that she would know if he did.  
  
"Yes, Shadowfyre, there was a male child. However, that was not known at the time of your passing into this world. You were the first, and it enraged him. I was on watch that night, walking the streets and heard the first cries."  
  
As he told her of her dark beginnings, he watched the play of emotion across her face. The intensity of the hate did not surprise him so much as the lack of emotion when he told her of how her mother had met her end and his trip to the witch's hut following.  
  
"So there was another that knew?" she asked. "Yes, there was. But for the safety of all of us, we spoke not a word of it. That would have surely gotten all of our throats slit while we slept."  
  
"Better that than serving as Tolax's whore." He had never heard such hate and loathing in a sentence as he heard at that moment. And he knew that the time Tolax spent on this earth was now marked.  
  
"So yes, Shadow, you have a brother. Your twin and younger born. I have seen him, though never approached. He has grown into a fine."  
  
"Cleric. I know."  
  
"You know?" Nothing she could have said would have surprised him more. "But how.?"  
  
"While fighting he came upon me and healed me. And I knew."  
  
She turned her head and looked away, breaking eye contact for the first time since she entered. He could tell her thoughts were elsewhere, and he did not interrupt. She turned to leave than, one hand on the hilt of her sword, the other on the door. As she stepped out, and pulled the door closed, she paused and looked at him again. The coldness in her eyes sent a chill along his spine, but when she spoke, her words froze his very soul.  
  
"You need not fear of a slit throat anymore, Fachon. I saw to that personally."  
  
The door closed quietly behind her and the apparition that had entered his life years ago was gone. 


End file.
